


Diamond in the Rough

by Rueitae



Series: Diamonds [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Detective Pidge, F/M, Gentleman Thief AU, Heist, Thief Lance (Voltron), pidgance, plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 05:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15163547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Prequel to 'Wrong Diamond'Pidge is laser focused on looking for her missing parents. She knows the Galra have something to do with it, the main criminal organization in Garrison City, but she doesn't know why or how. On what was supposed to be an easy case, she ends up meeting the one person who might have the pieces to the puzzle. Too bad he just stole a priceless painting from right underneath her nose.





	Diamond in the Rough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Engineer104](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/gifts).



> For Reem, who has been very patient and encouraging and wanted this very much. I hope you like it!

“I have it right here, Chief,” Pidge said hastily. She unfurled a tattered and worn map, slamming it right side up on Iverson’s desk. Mounds of paperwork, the stapler, and a desk calendar created odd bumps in the already wrinkled and creased paper. 

Iverson sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Katie, there are so many markings and notes on here I can’t tell the difference between your writing and Hunk’s niece.” He waved a hand across the map to accentuate his point. 

Pidge scowled. She rounded the desk and pushed Iverson’s chair over, the legs scraping across the bare floorboards. It gave her just enough room to reach over and direct his attention to a particular part of the map. Her finger landed on the sea port. “The numbering system is wrong. Look, the port has the area code 351, but the documents Dad and Mom intercepted are 349,” she explained quickly. “It's not an official code. There’s another way out of the city, Sir!” She rushed back around the desk to stare him in the face, palms planted firmly down on the desk. “I know the Galra have this secret port. I just need to find it, please,” she begged, “put me on the case.”

“Good Gravy, Holt! Not this again!” He scrunched up the large map into a vague ball and handed it back to her, forcing Pidge to hold it awkwardly in both arms. “Hunk is in charge of the case for a reason,” he said, attempting to rationalize with her - not for the first time. “And you know perfectly well why you can’t - why you shouldn’t get involved.”

“But I can still help,” Pidge pleaded desperately. “I’ve kept up my disguise. I’ve been researching this for months, even on my own time.”

“We were incredibly fortunate to get Shiro back,” Iverson began evenly. “I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to you.”

He stood, and Pidge couldn’t stop a slightly exaggerated groan from escaping her lips. Her shoulders dropped and so did her eyebrows. Most of the time, Iverson gave the office a hard time on purpose. He was their chief after all. Right now though, he had switched to a lesser known counselor mode. Pidge had known him long enough to recognize his softer tone and sympathetic eyes. It made it impossible to be truly angry with him, regardless of the situation. “Sir, please, don’t get all mushy on me. I am trying to yell at you.”

“It’s my fault I let your brother try his hand,” he said regretfully. “If the Galra so much as sniff the Holt in you, they’ll be on you like coyote to a jackrabbit. I don’t think they’ll be so lenient either.”

Pidge closed her eyes, sighing in resignation as she reciprocated the hug Iverson had initiated. Matt was lucky to be alive, for now recovering at the hospital. “This is what you trained us to do, Sir. I passed just the same as everyone else. I know what I’m doing.”

“We can afford to be cautious and that’s just what we’ll do. Whatever these goons want from your folks, they aren’t afraid to sweep the two of you under the rug for it. Let your coworkers handle it,” he said, giving her short hair a ruffle. “That’s why you have a team. You are going to drive yourself crazy if this is the only case you ever think about. You’ll burn out”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Pidge asked. “We both know they’re in danger. I can’t just sit around knowing that.”

“There are other assignments that need handling, Gunderson,” Iverson said, placing emphasis on her alias. He went to sit back down and nearly fell to the floor on his bum as his chair was out of its regular position thanks to Pidge’s earlier actions. He caught the edge of the desk with his fingers, barely managing to save face. Pidge’s mouth twitched, relieved to find some humor with everything else hanging over her.

Iverson found the chair and produced an index card, handing it to her. She held it awkwardly before dropping the map to the floor. “Some lunatic sent a note to the office announcing his intent to steal a painting. Dealing with an idiot might be amusing enough to keep your mind off things for a while.”

Pidge frowned. The note written on the card had an elegant script, a sharp contrast to its contents. 

At midnight, I will steal Juniberry Fields. - Blue.

The painting in question was well known, made famous when the King of Altea himself commissioned it for his daughter's wedding. The groom had loved it so much he had the painting copied and hung throughout the castle to remind his bride of home. 

Modern day storytellers continued to tout it as the greatest love story, and it seemed there was a reference to the painting in nearly every romantic media.

Pidge didn’t really care for those type of movies. Everything was too coincidental. She’d become a detective to help real people, just like her parents. If she found love on the job, great, otherwise using her brain to keep the city safe was her priority. 

Her nose wrinkled at the cheesiness of the note. “Seriously? You’re giving me a prankster kid? I can be of way better use somewhere else.”

It was Iverson’s turn to grin. “Prank or not it’s your case now. Don’t hurt the kid too much.”

~~~

Pidge threw the index card on her desk and sat down heavily in frustration. She glared at the piece of paper and huffed, supporting her face lazily with the palm of her hand. 

This was stupid. She was the only one left able to help her family, and here she was stuck with a prank case. A prank! Fingers drummed on the desk. 

A cup of tea found its way by her elbow. 

“I told you he wouldn’t listen,” Hunk said. 

Pidge side eyed her coworker and relented with a sigh, taking the cup. “Thanks for the tea.”

“You know he’s just beating himself up over all this, right?”

“I know,” she confirmed. Her fire from before now felt like embers. “I’m scared for my family, Hunk. If I don’t work on their case I will go insane.

Hunk offered her a sympathetic frown. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have gotten this far into it without you finding more clues,” he admitted. “But you gotta find something other than work to do. It’s killing you from the inside like a triple hot sauce burrito.”

The tea was freshly brewed, and the honey Hunk had added to it felt good on her throat. It cleared her mind, able to appreciate what her friends were trying to do for her. “I just want my family safe back home.” A sob caught in the back of her throat, but the anger stirred more than the sadness. 

“It's not like we’re gonna keep you out of the loop or anything,” he continued. “Please don’t cry Pidge. If you cry, I’m gonna cry too.”

She snorted, the humor helping some of the ache in her heart and any tears coming out now were those of laughter. “Thanks Hunk, you’re the best.”

He smiled warmly. “We’re all here for you, Pidge. Keith doesn’t always know how to say it, and Shiro is trying so hard to get his memories back. We’ll find your parents.” Pidge sniffed, swallowing her congestion. Hunk held out his arms. “Need a hug?”

“I’ll take it,” she said gratefully. She spent the rest of the work day randomly hugging her team - much to Keith’s confusion, not that he seemed to mind - and sharing her map notes with them, hopeful that even if she couldn’t focus on the case, she could get Hunk and Keith looking in the right direction.

~~~

The museum was silent besides the clack of Pidge’s boots. She finished her latest walk around the building just a few minutes until the appointed time the prankster had given. Leaning against the wall opposite the original copy of Juniberry Fields, she reached down to her utility belt and raised the communicator to her mouth.

“Everything clear?” A yawn escaped immediately following her question.

“No signs of forced entry. All locks are in place. You’re the only one I see, Lieutenant.” The regular night security guard was the only other soul in the building with her.

Pidge sighed before responding back. “Thanks, Greg. Keep up surveillance. I’ll keep my eyes on the painting. We’ll be done with this soon.”

She clamped the device to her chest pocket for easy access. Her hand rested back to her belt and on her favored stun gun. It gave her peace of mind to feel it there.

Even as the hour struck, her mind was far away. How long would she sleep tonight and would she be able to still visit Matt in the morning? His sleep schedule was nearly as messed up as her’s with the medication he needed to take. 

The doctors ordered several more weeks of bedrest. A part of Pidge preferred he stay at her apartment, but with inconsistent work hours, there was no way she could care for him. Matt was also one of the few people on the planet who liked hospital food. Despite how serious his injuries had been, he was treating the whole stay like a vacation at an all inclusive resort.

It was enough for Pidge to roll her eyes at, and she was thankful she could even do that. She thought he had died that day. She bit her lip to hold back the tears just remembering it.

One thing Matt had unearthed before getting hurt, was that the elder Holts were taken for a reason and that they were no longer in Garrison City. 

If she could only crack the code. Galra involvement in the years leading up to her parents disappearance, as well as all of their cases were located on the map that she kept safely in her breast pocket. She needed the location of the crime syndicate’s hidden smuggling port - wherever this area code 349 was. Working late like this wouldn’t help. She didn’t need tired eyes, she needed fresh ones to pour over the map for what had to be the hundredth time. 

“Hard to admire a painting when it's so dark in here, don’t you think?”

Pidge stiffened, gasping. She turned to her left and there he stood. Not a kid, but a fully grown man and dressed head to toe in black. His blue eyes stood out amidst the face mask he wore, twinkling in amusement. 

Without preamble he casually leaned in, using her shoulder as a rest for his lanky arm. He pointed to the painting, eyes fixated. “It is really beautiful. I wonder if the prince ever got to see an actual juniberry flower,” he said.

How. How had he snuck up on her?

Pidge’s reaction was swift once over her surprise. She narrowed her eyes, a reflection of her renewed resolve for her current assignment, and in one fluid motion grabbed her gun and switched it to taser mode, slamming it into his stomach.

She was rewarded with his alarmed shriek and collapse to the floor. 

“What the quiznack was that for?!” he complained. The low setting hadn’t been nearly enough to knock him out. He quickly stood back up, fists clenched and looking extremely indignant. 

“I have permission to be here. You don’t,” Pidge said as she flashed her badge for him to see. “What are you doing here?”

He raised a thin eyebrow and took a few steps away. From the single silent action, an uneasy feeling rose in Pidge’s stomach. He didn’t look the goofball of a few seconds ago. If she wasn’t careful, she might underestimate him. She already had once in assuming this entire scenario was a childish prank. She trained the gun on him, and it sparkled with electricity - ready to taze him again if needed. “Don’t move.”

He raised his hands to head height. “I’m assuming that since you’re here, you got my note.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “You’re Blue?”

“The one and only,” he said smoothly, bowing elegantly and keeping his hands in place. 

“Who are you really? What kind of thief sends a note to the police, admitting to a crime before its been committed?” 

“Its all about image,” he narrowed his eyes, squinting, “… lieutenant?” He nodded. “Lieutenant Gunderson,” he said confidently. Not everyone could tell rank by glance. Pidge filed that under potentially useful information. “Where’s the others?” he continued.

Pidge blinked, confused. “What? What others?”

“The rest of the police. The news crew.” He waved his arms in exaggeration, gesturing to the whole of the museum. “This is Juniberry Fields we’re talking about here. You can’t tell me you’re the only one they sent to try and catch me.”

Several red flags flew through Pidge’s mind. His confidence was off-putting, casualness even more so. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she responded. 

His face fell. “Are you kidding me?! It's just you?! Oh come on!” he exclaimed in frustration. “I even dressed the part for my debut!”

Not impressed, Pidge glared. “With a name that makes no sense. No one can see your eyes from a distance in the dark, and you’re wearing all black.”

Blue glared back. “This is NOT black, it is a very dark navy blue!” he squawked, pinching a bit of cloth on his shirt for emphasis. Almost comically, he paused, his face neutral before raising a single eyebrow. “You noticed the color of my eyes?”

Pidge blanched, suddenly feeling very warm in the cheeks. “I’m a detective. It's my job to notice things!”

She regretted saying it nearly as soon as the information left her lips. Blue’s mouth morphed into a smug grin. “Sorry to say I’m not into guys, Lieutenant. Alas,” he dramatized, “my true love lies within the galleries. It's been a pleasure, but it is time for me to take what I came here for.” 

He took a step backwards and Pidge fired her taser. She had always considered herself a decent shot, but this one missed Blue as he did a somersault over a nearby bench. Pidge jumped into action after him. 

She used her momentum to slide under the lines of rope that kept gallery viewers organized and in separate lanes. Blue was well ahead of her, having leapt over them as if he were a seasoned track star. 

They met in front of the painting, one on either side. 

“Hey, you’re pretty good,” he told her, jovial smile plastered on his face. “Could use a little work on aim with that thing. I’d offer my sharpshooting expertise, but then you’d actually catch me.”

Pidge growled. He was becoming more infuriating by the minute. She raised the gun once more. “Put your hands up, you’re under arrest.”

He obliged. Instead of a frown or a surrender he sighed. “You seem like a good guy. Next time bring some backup, okay? And a reporter or two? I hope my performance earns me at least that.”

“There won’t be a next time. I’m taking you in now,” Pidge stressed. She fired. 

Blue dodged, jumping like a frog and sticking to the wall on all fours. The use of unknown technology caught Pidge completely off guard and gawked. He took her hesitation and allowed one hand to go free to grab the painting just below him. Pidge shook herself back into the moment and fired again, missing as he pivoted out of the way, still stuck to the wall. She cursed at completely underestimating him. This was not how this night was supposed to have gone.

Blue carried himself at a blistering pace across the walls, moving further up the closer to the entrance they got. Pidge ran after him on foot, hailing Greg on her communicator. “I’m going to need backup! Get someone out here!” she ordered. She hadn’t expected this level of acrobatic skills, pulling a stunt she’d only seen at the circus.

Not waiting for a response she slammed the button on the nearest alarm. She filtered out the noise, used to the sound from her early years. 

Her quary visibly winced at the noise and nearly faltered. He paused only to give her a dirty look. “That’s super annoying you know! You could have avoided this if you’d brought more people!” He smirked. “Not that it would have worked.”

Pidge only just beat him to the grand entrance, her and a wall of glass all that stood between Blue and making it out with a priceless painting. “Give me the painting and I won’t turn the stun up all the way,” she threatened. 

Blue made a show of thinking. He was as far up as he could get on the walls below the vaulted ceiling. He was far enough away she wouldn’t be able to shoot him unless she predicted where he’d be well ahead of time. She also had the painting to consider. If she shot him, it would fall and smash onto the floor. 

“Do me a favor, Lieutenant!” He called spiritedly. “The cute anchor on channel 4? Tell her my area code is 349. I might show up for an interview if the press is nice about it.”

Pidge froze. The same phantom area code her parents had found before they went missing.

He slid over to the windows above the doors, designed to let as much natural light as possible, and large enough to for him to fit through. That is exactly what he did, painting in tow. Pidge gaped. The glass had already been removed from the panel. 

Blue was out of the museum and free to go. Pidge clenched her fists. Not if she had anything to say about it. She refused to believe that a cocky, happy go lucky thief could pull off something of this magnitude not only under her nose, but the entire city. 

He also knew something. Whether he realized it or not, Blue had just become one more clue in the mystery of her parents disappearance. 

She was not letting him get away that easily. 

“Greg, I’m headed outside in pursuit,” she radioed in. “Make sure the rest of the museum is secure.”

She flipped her stun gun around and cracked open the hilt. A green monitor greeted her, white dot appearing on the gridded screen. The dot moved north. Turning on a dime, she flung the giant glass doors open wide and sprinted into the night.

~~

Pidge followed the thief to the residential district roughly a mile from the museum. Hidden in an adjacent alleyway, she followed his movements up a metal staircase on the outside of an apartment building. The bright colors of the painting stood out in the night like a sore thumb, making the task easy. 

Once he had entered the top floor through a bay window, Pidge came out of her spot and climbed the stairs after him. At first she took them two at a time, slowing down closer to the top in an effort to make herself quieter. 

Arriving at the window, she crouched down and could not believe her luck when she looked inside. Blue knelt in the middle of a fully illuminated studio apartment. Paintings off all kinds covered the room, both propped up on the floor and hanging on the walls. He was finishing covering up a painting with a blanket, she assumed was Juniberry Fields itself. His mask was off, giving Pidge full view of his facial features, which she filed away in her mind for future note. He stood with a yawn and stretched.

He had left the window open. Pidge bit her lip. Chief Iverson wouldn’t be pleased about her less than legal methods, but the crime he had just committed was not what she wanted him for. 

She invited herself in. 

He finished the yawn and smiled. His fingers ran affectionately over the covered frame of Juniberry Fields. “I did everything I could do for tonight, Good Lookin’. Not as much as I’d hoped, but next time should be better.” He stood, practically preening. “For now, time for my well deserved beauty sleep.”

Okay, he talked - flirted - with paintings. Not the strangest thing Pidge had ever seen.

“You’ll get plenty of sleep, I promise,” Pidge said. She charged her stun gun and aimed.

Blue turned to her, eyes wide and body rigid. A far cry from his confident posture back at the museum. “You? How - “ 

Pidge did not let him finish. Once Blue was unconscious she nodded, a sense of accomplishment settling in her mind. Not wanting to risk him making yet another slippery escape, she dragged him across the floor, and with great effort sat him on one of the dining table chairs. To make sure he couldn’t leave until her questions were answered, she used her handcuffs to bind his wrists around the back of the chair. 

Now that he was secure, Pidge could do her own investigating. She set her coat on another chair and rolled up her sleeves for comfort. 

The studio was a bit of a mess, but one she could appreciate since her own mirrored the same energy of organized chaos. The paintings sat in small clusters all over, with some sculptures mixed in among them. Paints, brushes, and chisels of all kinds lay in each group. Some jars of special molding clay lay in some of the groups. 

Pidge began to worry that Blue was some kind of art saboteur, until she came across the large easel next to an ornate writing desk. A painting sat on the easel, a quarter of its colors bright and cheerful as if it had been freshly painted, while the rest was much more dull. A small piece of paper at the very top of the easel with the name of the painting, an employer, and a sum of money made it click for her. 

Blue’s day job was art restoration. He knew exactly what he was doing, she realized. 

She sorted through the desk with precision and grinned as she finally came upon what she wanted. At least she wouldn’t have to call him Blue any longer. Lance was a more common name, even if it was funny that one who restored ancient works of art was named after an ancient weapon.

The desk contained all she needed including his full name, employers, work history, and schooling. Everything except why he would steal paintings.

Pidge searched most of the night. Despite having a queen sized bed, Lance seemed to live alone. All of the cosmetics and hair care in the bathroom were for men and Pidge was grateful he had the sense to keep the area near immaculate. She’d seen plenty of disgusting bachelor pads in her time, and her stomach was happy this was not one of them. 

The kitchenette had a few dirty dishes in the sink, a pot of pasta covered on the cold stove and several garlic knots on a small oven tray. The refrigerator was filled with basic meats, cheeses, and vegetables - but nothing of interest to Pidge aside from the growing rumble in her stomach. It was nearly morning now. She could tell as the first hints of light poked through the windows, and she hadn’t eaten since before heading to the museum. She’d have to report in soon too. There was a decent chance any one of her team was already looking for her. 

A crash from behind caught her attention. 

Lance had fallen over in the chair and now lay on his side, moaning and predictively sluggish. Now it was time to get down to business.

“Sleep well, Lance? I can call you that, right?”

His back was to her, but his body tensed in response. He growled, then proceeded to flop his body and the chair around to face her. His glare was as serious as they came, which was amusing, because the way he lay on the floor was comedic in nature. “How the quiznack did you - “ his expressive eyes grew to saucers. “You’re a girl?!”

Pidge blinked and looked down. Without her coat, it was easier to see her endowment. Oh well, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her identity long with the information she needed to get from him. 

“I tracked the heightened static in your body. I basically had a tracer on you,” she explained coolly to his first unfinished question. Not wanting to be cruel, she righted the chair he sat on, alleviating what she know would be already sore arms. 

Lance huffed and his shoulders slumped slightly, but he did seem far more relaxed. “I knew I was going to get caught eventually, but this was not the way I hoped it would happen.” His eyes filled with a worry that made Pidge feel uncomfortable. “Look, I’ll give the painting back tomorrow night, and I’ll even turn myself in, but I can’t leave here, not with a cop.”

A plethora of additional questions filled Pidges mind. Why he wanted to be arrested, and under such specific circumstances, chief among them. Luckily for her, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Not before answering my questions first,” she began. “Age 26, works by day in art restoration, graduated from Altea University five years ago. I’m going to also make a reasonable assumption that you have no previous criminal record since you seem so eager to make a sport out of it.”

He tugged at his cuffs then turned his head from her, and a reddish tint to his cheeks showed his embarrassment. “Anything you didn’t find out after helping yourself to my apartment?”

Pidge couldn’t help but twitch a smile. He had given her a hard time at the museum, it seemed only fair she would respond in kind. “Not used to having a girl over at your place?” She quipped, arms crossed smugly. 

He stuttered helplessly before settling back to a glare. “That is not true.”

“Is that why you talk to paintings like your girlfriend?”

Lance breathed in sharply, indignant. “They are works of art and deserve to be treated with some respect is all.”

“Then why go through all this to steal? You of all people should know it belongs in the museum,” she asked, watching him deflate completely at the question. Pidge pulled up a chair to sit across from him, crossing her arms in wait for the story. One that she hoped would indeed link back to her parents. 

“Because better I steal them than be in Galra hands,” he said sadly. “It’s my job to keep paintings safe. The Galra are destroying them.”

Pidge knew her mouth hung open and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected this much relevant information so quickly. She narrowed her focus and hoped that her face conveyed that she was ready to get down to business. “Why are the Galra destroying paintings and how do you know?”

“I’ve seen it. By accident, I’m pretty sure,” he continued. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something. “I was hired by one of their higher ups - Sendak - to authenticate a new painting in his private collection. It was one of those ancient Altean ones, like Juniberry Fields. Had a beautiful red lion in it. Anyway, it was real. And it was amazing,” he gushed. His somber mood lifted as he began to talk about the painting. The genuine smile on his face was infectious, and Pidge grinned despite herself. It was nice to listen to someone so passionate about their work. It reminded her of her parents, the way they used to talk about the joy of solving a case. 

“So I asked him if he wanted me to clean it up for him, told him it wouldn’t take too long because all things considered it was in pretty good condition. There was some grimy stuff on the back if you took it out of the frame - purpley and I swear I saw some of it move.” Lance frowned. “Sendak, ah, he didn’t seem too happy about it but that wasn’t the weirdest thing I saw.”

Pidge didn’t realize she was holding her breath. It wasn’t unusual for members of the Galra to hire outside help, but at the same time she was amazed Lance was even here to talk about his experience. “What was it?” she pressed.

“There was an old lady, I saw her in a room as I was being escorted out.” His voice began to quiver. “She had another Altean painting and she… well, it looked like she was literally sucking the life out of it. Like magic. I dunno how else to describe it,” he finished quickly. “She sucked all the color out of it and breathed it in. It was just a plain white canvas when she was done.”

Pidge had interviewed many people in her fledgling career. Even as a child, her father would often tell her that the eyes were the window to a person’s soul. ‘Look in their eyes,’ he would say, ‘the eyes can’t lie’.

Lance told the truth, or at least he thought he was telling the truth. The same eyes that were so full of teasing at the museum held only compassion and worry. 

“Magic,” Pidge said, “isn’t real.”

“I know what I saw. If it wasn’t magic, it was one amazing illusion. Like high end special effects,” he insisted. “Whatever it was, they’re deliberately destroying paintings. Priceless paintings at that. Authentic Altean works are rare. Way too many of them got destroyed in the fire that destroyed the Castle.”

“It's more amazing that they let you go free,” Pidge said. Her mind wandered, imagining if this might have been what her parents uncovered. “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

Lance gave her a deadpan stare. “Says the cop who just told me magic isn’t real.” He sighed deeply, if somewhat dramatically. “Look, I know how to keep paintings safe - it's my job. The Galra are looking for Altean paintings specifically, so if you believe even a tiny bit of what I’m telling you, you’ll keep a really close eye on them because I know Sendak is looking for more.”

Iverson would tell her Lance’s story was a bunch of baloney, Pidge was sure of it. 

“On the way out of the museum, you said to look for you in area code 349. That doesn’t exist in the city. Why?” she asked.

She could almost see the wheels in Lance’s head turn. His gaze fluttered past her and he awkwardly gestured with his head to the far wall. “The skyline of the city, second one to the left from the bed. Does it look strange to you?”

Pidge humored him, walking over to get a closer look. The painting in question was a detailed, if exaggerated, side view of Garrison City - as if the buildings were more squished together than they actually were. 

Lance was right. Something looked off. Pidge had memorized the city layout as a child, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. 

“It's the Altean Castle,” he said after her prolonged silence. “Its right in the middle of the city. Not anymore obviously, but it used to be.”

Pidge couldn’t help but gasp when she saw it, now that she knew what to look for. Certainly, among the modern buildings, the slick white Altean Castle sat snug. Once found, it stood out like an eyesore. “How… we’re not even in Altea.”

“Yeah, one of the bonuses of needing to know obscure history,” Lance said. “It used to actually be here, the Castle. That painting is hundreds of years old. Early city architects took a lot of inspiration from it and designed the town based on the painting.”

Pidge turned to face him. “No way. It’s… “ she turned back to look at the painting. “How could the Castle be here?”

“Some say,” Lance began smugly, “that it was magic. Others blame it on a freak meteor.” He leaned back as far as he could in the chair and crossed his legs. “But that space where it used to be? It’s in between the science museum and JDS Fitness Center; the 349th block.”

The Altean Castle. The Galra after specifically Altean paintings. 

“They knew,” Pidge whispered to herself, clues clicking together a little too easily. She dug into her pocket and produced her map of the city, the one with all of her notes. This information changed everything. It wasn’t an area code she was looking for, it was a city block her parents had found. 

“Well, I don’t think the artists knew their design was going to be this popular,” Lance said. 

Pidge shook her head. “No. I mean my parents. I think they knew about the Castle. Look.” She held out the map for him to see. “Everything in red is a past Galra target. Everything in purple is a known hot spot where members gather. The green circles are areas where we have undercover agents,” she explained. “My parents were investigating one of those purple areas and sent my brother an encrypted message about area 349… I thought it was an area code, but they were talking about where the Castle used to be.” She frowned. “We haven’t heard from them since.”

Lance frowned, his face twisting into sympathy. “I didn’t see anyone who wasn’t Galra there. I’m sorry.”

Pidge lowered the map and clenched her fists. “They’re still alive, I know they are.” She had been a fool to think it would be that easy. She took a deep, calming breath. Something Shiro had the team constantly practice. “You said you’re okay with being caught - but not here. Why?”

“First, do me a favor and close the curtains?” He requested, head gesturing to the window where they had both entered. The sun had risen high enough that the apartment was more full of natural light. She could no longer make out his expressions with the light hitting him from behind. “All that sunlight isn’t good for the paintings.” 

Pidge acquiesced, awkwardly pulling the ceiling tall curtains all the way across the window. Lance had been answering all her questions a small part of her was beginning to feel guilty. 

“Thank you,” he said, exhaling in clear relief. “You look like an angel with the sun on you, but I’ve got to think of my livelihood.”

Pidge no longer felt guilty. His voice carried the same tone as back at the museum, made far more infuriating now that she could see his full flirtatious face. 

“Really?” She asked, annoyed. “I’m not one of your paintings.”

“What? That’s not - “ his eyebrows fell in reluctant and annoyed acceptance. “Fine. You wanted to know why I didn’t want to get caught like this?”

“Yes,” Pidge confirmed. “I can follow your logic, unnecessary and flamboyant as it is. But now I know your story - so what’s stopping me from taking you back to the station right now?”

Lance didn’t get a chance to answer, as the ring of his own phone interrupted him. Concerned as to how to handle this development, she gazed at Lance - who looked as if he had just witnessed a murder. 

“I need to answer that,” he said urgently, voice cracking in fear. “You can’t let them know you’re here.”

He hadn’t been scared of being arrested, even though breaking into the museum alone would have ruined his career. There was only one thing it could be. 

Pidge worked quickly to hook her phone tapping equipment to Lance’s landline. On the fourth ring she had the phone to his ear and her cell phone to her own to listen. 

“Mr. Sendak was pleased with your work last week,” the voice said without preamble. “He would like to request your services on a much… larger project.” The man did not even attempt to mask his condescending tone.

“Hey Mr. Haxus,” Lance said nervously. Beads of sweat surfaced near his temple, his cordial smile forced. “What a surprise to hear from you.”

“We have been following your work since your visit. Zarkon is quite impressed with your knowledge of the Altean era, which is why we are bringing you back to service his private collection.”

“I’m flattered,” Lance responded confidently. His eyes betrayed his fear at the suggestion. Pidge nodded, hoping he’d sustain the courage to keep up the act he was building. “But I'm hardly what you’d call experienced. I may have graduated in Altea, but there are plenty of others with years more experience - “

“Lord Zarkon,” Haxus interrupted, “has requested you personally,” he emphasized. “Mr. Sendak gave you the highest of recommendations.” The compliment rolled off the man's tongue like poisoned honey. It was clear to Pidge from Lance’s cringe that he understood this wasn’t about his workmanship. Lance had indeed seen something he should not have.

“Well then I’d hate to disappoint,” Lance said lightly. “I think I have an opening next Wednesday?”

“No need to schedule,” Haxus said. “I am waiting outside your apartment. I’ll be there to collect you in just a moment.”

The dial tone was both a relief and curse. 

“This,” Lance began in a mild panic, “is why I didn’t want to get caught here. If they see a cop here they will probably kill you and I will definitely not see the light of day until they decide I’m useless to them.”

“I need to find out what the Galra are doing at that address,” Pidge said quickly, a plan already half formed in her mind. “All I want is my parents back. I won’t turn you in if you help me.” She swiftly uncuffed him and ran over to the bed, locking them on the old metal headrest. She stuffed her map between the mattress. “Strip.”

“What?!” He asked incredulously. 

“You want to save the paintings from the Galra right?” Pidge asked, turning to face him.

He slowly rubbed his wrists, eyes scanning her, as if trying to see where she was going with this. “Yeah, that’s the only reason I broke in. I was hoping the media attention would be enough to keep the Galra away from the ones in museums after Blue showed up once or twice. Since, you know, I can’t go to the police without the Galra seeing me do it.”

“It could still work. I’ll hype up Blue when I get to work later,” she began to unbutton her uniform, revealing a black tank top underneath. “Here’s the thing. I can’t get close to the Galra because of who I am. You can. Whatever the Galra are after, it has something to do with my parents and the Altean paintings. If you keep being Blue, and we can save the paintings, we might be able to delay their plans and help my parents. In the meantime, use their interest in you get more information the why, and anything on Sam and Colleen Holt.”

“The missing detectives? Your parents?” Lance asked. His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“There’s no way I can get out of here without Haxus knowing,” she explained, tossing her shirt on the bed. “The Galra network is large, I wouldn’t be surprised if the building is surrounded. So we’re going to have to act.”

Lance sucked in a deep breath, now understanding. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been undercover before, not my first acting job.” She smiled. “And Blue is a pretty smooth - if a bit annoying - talker.”

Lance closed his eyes and took a calming breath. When he opened them, they were bright and mischievous. “Alright Lieutenant Gunderson, let’s be partners.” He held out a hand. 

Her heart fluttered without warning at his words. She took his hand, sporting a wily grin of her own. “Pidge,” she told him. “But Lieutenant will do during working hours.”

The doorknob turned with a click and their eyes met. Pidge’s stomach churned, she’d not personally interacted with a Galra yet even in her line of work. Lance looked conflicted, and at the same time desperately trying to maintain his confidence. 

“Showtime,” she whispered.

The door creaked open.

“Sorry,” he mouthed silently. He leaned in and kissed her.

Pidge had the vantage point to see the tall, slender man in a the pinstripe suit enter the room. She could only assume this was Haxus. She slipped further into the act, and allowed herself to enjoy the gentle press of his lips on hers. The care surprised her. It wasn’t overbearing like their first meeting, but more a simple jigsaw puzzle sliding perfectly into place. Soothing came to mind, but she couldn’t stay comfortable for long. They both had a job to do. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she jumped to wrap her legs around his waist, hoping to sell their act. 

Lance barely caught her, circling his arms around her back and holding on tightly. He stumbled forward, unused to the sudden weight in front of him. Pidge’s heart leapt into her throat and she thought she was going to fall to the floor on her butt at any second. 

She did fall, but landed on something soft. The bed. They were still locked in the kiss. 

Haxus coughed. “I hope I’m not interrupting something terribly important.”

There was their cue. They broke off breathlessly. 

Pidge smirked, dredging up her best flirtatious voice. She traced his chin with a finger. “You are a goofball. You didn’t tell me we were bringing in a third. I would have brought more toys,” she purred.

Lance turned red, and to his credit, swallowed it all down before putting on his own figurative mask. “I would never want to trouble you like that. This is unexpected company.” He stood up and turned to face the Galra man. “Sorry about that. Caught me on our date night.”

Pidge sat up in the bed and tried not to look too smug at the disgusted look Haxus was giving them. Good, her uniform and handcuffs were acting as the perfect props.

“Indeed,” Haxus said distastefully. 

“Give me a minute to look presentable. I couldn’t leave the girlfriend hanging so quick after your call,” Lance said, gesturing to his thief costume, minus the mask, which thankfully could pass as gym clothes easily enough. 

“There will be clothing provided for you at the manor,” Haxus said sharply. “Come as you are. Your… companion will be properly compensated for time wasted.”

Pidge pouted. Inwardly she was gaining confidence, unbelieving this was working so well. “Will you be back for our fancy dinner date? You promised we’d go to the Olkarion this week.” She hoped that by giving Lance planned meeting, the Galra would be more likely to let him go again.. 

He smiled brightly back at her, eyebrows raised suggestively. “I wouldn’t miss tomorrow for anything.” Pidge was relieved he caught on to decide the date on his own, so he wouldn’t overlap anything on his schedule the Galra may have already known about. “That shouldn’t be a problem, right Mr. Haxus?”

“Provided you complete the task Zarkon has for you. This way, please?”

Lance turned to her once again. “A good luck kiss?”

Pidge paused before answering. He still used his confident tone, but his smile and eyes were warm and soft. So were his lips, as she discovered as she stood on her knees to give him that kiss. 

“Anytime, Loverboy,” she answered. 

Lance left with Haxus after that with only a few more words between them. Pidge was finished with her part. She watched them leave from the window above the bed. 

She hoped this would be enough to keep him safe. Safe enough that he could come back with any clue on her parents whereabouts. All she could do now was wait. 

~~

“You sure you’re alright, Pidge?” Shiro asked in concern. “You know you can take the day off if you want.”

Pidge sighed, looking up from her map. All week she had been working diligently to fill in details and revised theories based on the information Lance had given her. Despite their agreement and con of Haxus, she hadn’t seen him since that morning. “Shiro, seriously, I’m fine. I need to do this so I can have a clear head for the next case.”

He sighed, but didn’t look quite convinced. “Okay. Just let me know. We’ll need you on the stakeout tomorrow.” He left her be with an encouraging shoulder pat. 

Pidge was beginning to worry if he would even keep his part of the bargain, or if the Galra had let him go. The entire plan looked more ludacris now that she thought back on it. Keeping his identity a secret while she knowingly let him steal priceless paintings? All to get insider information on her parents and stall a possible plan involving magic and a long gone Altean Castle that used to be right in the middle of the city? Iverson would have a conniption fit if he knew she had such a lead, and was using a civilian to boot. 

Sendak needed him. Lance knew too much for the Galra to hire anyone else to inspect their paintings, she was certain of that. The office as a whole spent the majority of their time chasing Galra crimes, so Pidge was familiar with the general operating procedure. She hoped their ruse would be enough to keep Lance in the good graces of the higher ups while he moonlighted against them.

Lance had certainly seemed genuine, more so than any other criminal she’d encountered. He had no reason to trust her, other than her promise to have his back. Guilt twisted in her, she’d all but pushed him into the lion’s den.

She would have to trust her instincts. There was no way he could have gotten out of going with Haxus. Even though she had found him to be annoying as Blue, Lance was a nice person.

“Mail call!” Hunk all but sang as he entered the office. Pidge briefly looked up only to find the strange sight of her friend carrying a bouquet of flowers nearly as big as he was. 

Pidge grinned, glad for the temporary distraction. “You look happy, Hunk. Shay get you those?” she teased. 

Hunk’s grin only grew more smug and menacing as he turned towards her. “Not today, Pidge,” he declared. “These are addressed to you… from your secret admirer!” he taunted. 

“My what?!” She shrieked, her glasses falling down her nose.”

“Isn’t Pidge being a girl supposed to be a secret?” Keith asked from his desk in the corner. 

Shiro plucked the note out of the bundle of daisies, eyebrows furrowed in concern. His eyes widened as he read silently. “I think it’s time we focus more attention on the Juniberry Fields case. Everyone brush up on your Altean history, I need to speak with Iverson.” 

He let the note fall to Pidges desk before leaving. She picked it up and turned it over to see the handwritten note. 

To the brilliant Lieutenant Gunderson. The lady who stole my heart. My intent is to make us even and steal yours. I will begin with the Coranic Spire at midnight tonight. 

\- Blue

Pidge grinned despite herself. On the surface it looked like a forbidden romance between thief and detective. Haxus had seen her at the apartment and she had to give Lance credit for giving her this opportunity to openly research her parents case. This note meant she’d be put on as lead investigator for however many thefts Blue committed. The Galra wouldn’t be suspicious of her true motives. 

She could stop pretending to be a boy too. It had only been a matter of time before she or her coworkers accidentally spilled the beans on that too. 

Working with Lance was going to open up so many new opportunities. 

Pidge smiled as she remembered fondly shaking his hand, and of the kisses shared before she quickly put those to the back of her mind. 

‘Partners’ had a really nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop a note if you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!


End file.
